


Care Symbols

by theskywasblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean teaches Castiel the value of clean laundry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care Symbols

Best case scenario – they could go three weeks without having to hit a Laundromat. That was provided they didn’t end up on any of those really nasty hunts where “research” involved more bloodletting than books; that Sam didn’t rip the ass out of his jeans digging up any graves (priceless); and Dean remembered to tuck his napkin into his collar when he ordered the deluxe chilli-cheese burger at Biggerson's.

Just once, Dean wanted to achieve the best case scenario. Once.

Luckily the Rest-E-Zee Motel in Middle-of-Nowhere-on-the-Bayou, Florida came with two services included in the fifty bucks a night charge: Alligators in the parking lot and free laundry services – which they desperately needed, because seriously, witches – why always with the bodily fluids? At least Sam was the one covered in black tar-spew and busy using up all of the motel’s hot water; Dean would so much rather be flapping out the curled lumps of Sam’s massive socks and sorting whites from colours.

“This seems...very tedious.”

“Yeah, well...not everyone can just mojo their clothes clean. Hell, _you_ can barely do that anymore.”

He wanted to bite his tongue after he said it, particularly because Cas started glaring at him from his perch on top of the dryer like a pissed off bird of prey. He probably still had enough juice in him to smite Dean if he really wanted to.

“Look, it’s just work that’s gotta be done, okay?” The dryer chimed loudly and he shooed Cas out of the way to collect the clean clothes, doing the old musical machines – out comes one load, in goes the next – and Christ, if they ever needed an emergency parachute, Dean was seriously using one of Sam’s button-downs. How had that kid gotten so damn huge? “It might be boring, but it’s not hard. Actually, compared to everything else I usually do in a day, it’s kinda peaceful. Soothing almost.”

“How does it work?”

Dean frowned, “Dude, it’s not rocket science. Clothes go in here, with soap, get clean. Then they go in there and get dry. I’ve been doing it since I was like...seven.” And okay, he had shrunk a few of his dad’s shirts the first couple of times, but it sure beat the alternative since John had barely had time for drive through dinners, forget about laundry. “Keep an eye on the machines, okay? I gotta take this stuff to the room and check on Sam.”

Sam was still very much alive and bitching ferociously through the bathroom door about the state of his hair. Dean would have felt bad for him, but it was just too fucking funny. When he got back to the laundry room, Cas was standing half-naked over the washing machine looking confused and disgruntled.

“Dude, what happened to your shirt?”

Cas gave him one of those do not ask questions to which you cannot fathom the answers looks. “You said laundry was soothing. I wished to confirm your statement.”

And wow, weren’t there just all kinds of layers to that? “Okay...well,” Dean leaned over and fished Cas’ suit jacket our of the washer. “First of all, this is probably dry-clean only, but we can put the trench and button-down in with the last load.”

As he watched Cas stuff clothes into the machine with all the finesse of a blind ogre, Dean decided a little more instruction was probably necessary.

“Woah – woah, okay. Cas – you gotta make sure things are kinda even in there, otherwise the machine’s gonna walk away. Or blow a gasket or something.” He rearranged the clothes so that the distribution was more or less even. “Now soap.”

He thought better of letting Cas measure out the amount, and did it himself, then showed him how to turn the dial and pull the little knob.

“Simple, right?” He looked over at Cas, who still just looked sort of pissy and confused. And mostly naked. “You can put your jacket on now.”

Cas looked at the jacket, then at Dean; his face was blank, but it was closest to a helpless look Dean had seen on the angel’s face since the ill-fated visit to the brothel.

“Oh for...Sam could dress himself when he was three. Here.”

Dean took the jacket and more or less wrestled it back on to Cas. With the suit-jacket, but no button-down underneath he sort of looked like a low-rent stripper. Not that it bothered him; he just resumed his perch on top of the dryer like nothing at all was amiss. Dean took up a post on the neighbouring dryer and soaked up the silence.

“Listen,” he said finally, pausing to roll his lip between his teeth, “I know it’s not easy, okay?”

Cas looked at him blankly, so Dean tried again.

“Laundry, I mean.”

“But it is...” Cas ventured, with that careful little head-tilt that made him look like some kind of unfathomable bird, “Soothing.”

“Right,” Dean nodded, edging a little closer so that his shoulder bumped up against Cas’, “Soothing.”

-End-


End file.
